


poetry - charles mcmahon

by charles mcmahon (minmcmahon)



Category: None - Fandom
Genre: Other, Poetry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2019-08-21 20:08:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16583279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minmcmahon/pseuds/charles%20mcmahon
Summary: "When power leads man toward arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the area of man's concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses." - John F. Kennedythese are poems i've wrote concerning the experience of love and my perspective of sorrow. i do hope you take something from them. god bless and happy reading.





	1. november dreams

**Author's Note:**

> for november

_111018_

why is it that, 

I only dream of her in november?

when months and months after november that,

I've felt her presence in december.

 

to God, my soul, I pray

that she leaves me in october.

but when the leaves twist gray,

these dreams of mine sober.

 

I've seen other lovers,

and yet in this cold,

I feel nothing other than that of hers,

this love of mine grown old. 

 

then tell me, dear God,

why should I be so troubled

in the freezing of the sod,

by the bare arbor doubled?

 

I ache with this changing season,

and all around me I feel the fervor

I move with the trees in

Boreas' muffled murmur.

 

my love,

I miss you even in september.

so I ask Him above,

why do I only dream of you in november?

_-c.m_

 

 

 


	2. for i am dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a poem about the fall of man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for Eden

_111118_

(for i am dust)  
i slowly deteriorate  
from the inside out.  
outside of my form,  
from where i associate.  
associating with the dust,  
the worms in the dank and warm.  
warmth seems foreign now,  
i am alien to all that is just.  
just below the sky,  
expelled from God's bough.  
boughs of plenty  
erased from all and left to die.  
dying in knowing famine,  
fasting til my soul is empty.  
emptiness feels full,  
each rock to examine.  
examination is the only pastime,  
the only solace found in the dull.  
dullness is where i am left,  
to eat away this time.  
(and dust i always was)

_\- c.m_

 


	3. i am the fruit of your womb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a poem about my abuse and my mother

_111218_

i am the fruit of your womb

i was sown from that very seed

that has caused my own doom

i was predestined for the deed

 

everything i am

is because of you

while i was only a lamb

you let the lion chew

 

you observed but did not mouth

were you mute?

who has made man's mouth?

if not the Lord who's formed your fruit?

 

you have not taken the brunt

you have thought yourself Eve

am i left to be the runt?

or am i Cain left to peeve?

 

your damage should not

translate into my own

for if it were for Lot

i'd be left among the brimstone 

 

i am my Father's daughter

he who I resent

he who cleansed me in the water

has not spent what you've spent

 

you are a thief

you stole me of my innocence

you witnessed my grief

yet you made no influence

 

my hatred

of my torturer

is now almost sacred

in the odium of my captor

_-c.m_

 


	4. algor mortis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> why i wake early.

_111518_

i find comfort

in the gelid morning

i wake early to escape

the dreams of my discomfort

 

i don't want to go to sleep

i would rather stay awake

sobered in the dawn's frost

slumber's loneliness runs deep

  

my body feels alive

only in the night

only in that dawn

within the dimness i thrive

 

algor mortis is the only state

when i will be free

one with that morning

i will patiently wait

 

for in the first light i shed

the throes of the night

as death is only peaceful

to those already dead

_-c.m_

 

 


	5. overwhelming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i xxxx you more than you will ever know

_112618_

i visited you today

always unchanging

_im sorry_

_if_

_i_

_hurt you_

_i promise_

_i didnt mean to - do it_

didn't you?

im not sure

you didn't

you did

i know it

please

take it back

give me back

this hole only grows

give me back

i did not

love you

i know it

please

please

_please_

rid this hurt

rid you

i am

overwhelmed

at the memory

of visiting you

i visit you

every day

_please_

give me back

_-c.m_


	8. rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for those who don't sleep (REVISED CHAPTER 4)

_122318_

i find comfort

in the gelid morning.

in night i'm found encumbered,

sleep's peace died aborning

 

don't make me sleep

for i am sobered in the dawn's frost.

slumber's loneliness runs deep

i find the motive of it is long lost.

 

if i am not awake,

i am not alive.

only in that dawn i break,

within the dimness i thrive.

 

algor mortis is the only state

when i will be free.

when there's nothing left to sate,

when i join again with thee.

 

i am nearing the end of my life

i dont want to go.

i've endured all the day's strife

with my abiding woe.

 

in my cessation mindful,

only then will i rest my head.

as death is only peaceful

to those already dead. 

_\- c.m_

 


	10. dysphoria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gender in the eyes of a bird

_020619_

the barn swallow

resting on a terret,

only concerned with worms in a fallow,

knows nothing of pants or a skirt.

 

then why,

why should that swallow

in his infinite sky,

or his indolent wallow,

 

bear upon himself 

the obligations 

of the substanceless non-self

and their segregations?

 

does the bird not 

discern man and woman?

or does he simply not

acknowledge that that makes us human?

 

tell me, my dear friend,

is he not a living being?

surely he knows of an end

to all that he is seeing.

 

did all flesh not die,

despite the breath of the spirt of life?

are we all not the same below this sky?

even if we stray from man and wife?

 

can I be like the birds,

uncaring and free up nigh?

the swallow does not care terribly

for pants and skirts.

why do I?

-  ~~~~ _c.m_


	11. eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i cannot know what my own eyes look like.

_72719_

I'll ask you a question, reader

although i expect little answer.

for it is a question you cannot decipher,

even if you show your deepest candor.

 

you cannot see my eyes, reader.

nor can i see your own.

but I pray you gather something meager,

to answer what cannot be shown.

 

what do my eyes look like, reader,

when they are in love?

do they hold what I can offer,

are they worth dreaming of?

 

 

i suppose you cannot answer, reader.

for these are just semantics.

so i'll direct my question to my keeper, 

to he who caused this madness.

 

what do my eyes look like?

could you ever tell me how?

do they look rather dreamlike,

or how yours do right now?

 

what do my eyes look like, 

when I am gazing at you?

do they look in love?

could yours look in love too?

 

_-c.m_

 

 

 

 


End file.
